


This christmas, I give you my heart

by Doctors_in_jumpers



Series: Christmas specials [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Boys In Love, But not right afterwards, Christmas, First Kiss, M/M, Parentlock, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 08:54:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17138774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctors_in_jumpers/pseuds/Doctors_in_jumpers
Summary: Sherlock and John have been through a lot, but they finally have their family. They both love the other flatmate, but don't know if their love is requited.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I found this prompt on Instagram, if any of you want to know what the exact prompt is, hit me up and I'll tell you. 
> 
> Basically, Mary is dead but TFP never happened because I don't like that episode very much? TLD did happen though.

Sherlock had gotten used to the loneliness after years of not being lonely. After he had returned from his two year hiatus taking down Moriarty’s network, Sherlock had come home to an empty flat. Everything of John’s was gone, save his chair that wasn’t really his chair but that was irrelevant. Most things were irrelevant anyways. Except for John. But John had chosen Mary, a seemingly simple woman. And then she hadn’t been simple at all. Again, that was irrelevant. Only John was relevant. To his surprise, John didn’t move back in right after he death though. Still, today was different.

 

“Mind lending me a hand?” That was John, bringing up boxes of items that had been packed from his old flat. There was no furniture with him, though. Any furniture that wasn’t in 221B was irrelevant, save Mrs Hudson’s furniture on occasion. Forgetting that John had even said anything, Sherlock got up to play his violin.

“Fine then.” It took John several trips to get all of his stuff into his old room. It really was a shame that John’s old room wasn’t actually Sherlock’s room. The detective would give almost anything to smell John’s comforting scent on his sheets. He would probably even give his soul, he didn’t really need it after all.

 

*************

 

“Sherlock, could you give me a hand with this stuff?” Memories of the beginning of the year when John had moved back into Baker Street flashed through Sherlock’s mind.

“What on earth could you possibly need my help for?” Sherlock really didn’t feel like helping John with what was obviously christmas decorations, Besides, he had been reading a chemistry  textbook to Rosie. Other than John and the Work, the little girl was the only things relevant in Sherlock’s life. Sherlock like relevancy.

“Can’t you just deduce it? You’re the genius.” Sherlock was going to answer, he really was but suddenly John was there in front of his chair. The somehow always glorious man was panting slightly with his shirt sleeves rolled up and his hair was marginally mussed and oh god he looked good. So, that was his reason behind staring at his beautiful flatmate, mouth slightly open and pupils blown a little wider than normal. John was looking at him with his spectacularly blue eyes that shone indigo in the right light. They really were Sherlock’s favourite things to look at. But then, there was a toddler squirming in his lap so she could crawl around, having just discovered how wonderful moving was. Sherlock’s attention snapped back into focus.

“Right yes. Christmas decorations. Why on earth would I want to help with  _ that _ ? Christmas is a commercial holiday, why would I want to partake in the celebration of it?” John must understand his dislike for the holiday.

“Ok fine, but I bought these lights that I thought you might like. You can wire them to blink in whatever pattern you want.” They did sound fairly interesting and John did look a little disappointed at Sherlock’s disdain. He was also looking to broaden his knowledge on electrical wiring. Suddenly, he had an idea. Of course! This was the best way to do it after all, and if John figured it out, it was easily deniable.

Surprising the doctor, Sherlock jumped up, minding the child who sat on the floor, and grabbed the box of decorations from John. He rooted through it until he found the new box of lights. Ripping it open, he ran to his room and slammed the door shut, he needed to do some research.

*************

 

John stepped back to admire his work. The flat looked festive, which was the goal so that was nice. He had just finished putting up the tree, but hadn’t decorated it yet, in case Sherlock wanted to help. He had put up countless other decorations, of course, and had even dared to hang mistletoe on the doorway to the kitchen. If asked, he would just a joke, but he was really hoping that Sherlock would pick up on it and take action. By this point, he was pretty sure his feelings were returned and would gladly tell Sherlock he loved him if he was 100% sure. There was a little niggling doubt though that rested in the back of his mind that Sherlock had actually taken his advice about the woman.

Sometimes late at night, when he was feeding Rosie he would hear that horrible ringtone and a frustrated grunt or even a little laugh in that unmistakable baritone. 

Whatever Sherlock felt for anyone was irrelevant right now though because John had done a bloody good job at decorating the flat. It was even babyproof, nothing dangerous in reach of tiny hands. Needing a good cup of tea, he went into the kitchen to prepare some for himself and Sherlock. Checking the time, he realized he should make some dinner too. Time had a way of escaping his notice these days.

 

*************

 

Sherlock had finally figured out the lights. Just in time apparently, because the smell of some sort of stir-fry wafted underneath his bedroom door. John had cooked. Bringing the lights with him, he emerged from his room and to the living room where many different types of christmas related decorations were up, most of them out of reach of Rosie’s little hands. The tree was where they had had it so many years ago during the case involving  _ The Woman.  _ It was surprisingly bare, as if John hadn’t had time to decorate it.

“I thought maybe you’d want to help me with it.” John must have noticed him looking at it. Sherlock’s attention snapped towards the doctor, and he immediately saw a little plant with white berries hanging on the kitchen doorway. He chose to ignore it in favour of the incredibly good looking man in front of him.

“That sounds like it has potential to be fun.” It really did. John looked a little taken aback, but recovered quickly.

“Ok… uh yeah we can do that after dinner, which, by the way, is chicken stir-fry.” Sherlock inwardly smiled at his small victory, and headed to their recently cleaned dining table, where John had set two plates of fragrant stir-fry and one bowl of baby food. John picked up Rosie from where she was sitting on the ground and placed her in the plastic high chair they had bought. 

Once John was sitting, Sherlock dug in with slightly more gusto than usual, and managed to eat half of his food, which was also more than usual. John ate slower than his flatmate, and alternated between feeding his fussy daughter and feeding himself. He glanced up at some point and seemed surprised to see Sherlock’s half eaten dinner. Sherlock watched his eyes trail up from the plate to his own eyes and then they stopped. Sherlock still loved John’s eyes. They were every shade of blue imaginable and more. Rosie started whimpering at her neglect and John blinked. Another moment was yet again ruined by John’s child.

 

*************

 

John cleaned up after dinner while Sherlock moved the lights that had been previously hung up on the mantelpiece and hung up the ones that John had bought this year. Rosie sat in her chair, happily turning an arrowroot biscuit into crumbs. He sighed. Sherlock’s amazing prismatic eyes were still fresh in his memory. Every time John saw them, a new colour had been added and now they were a plethora of unnamed hues.

Sherlock had failed to notice the mistletoe, which disappointed John, but it was a rather discreet sign, so he figured he should be more blunt next time because while he was a genius, Sherlock was also incredibly thick.

Once he was done in the kitchen, he headed out into the main room of their flat, bringing Rosie so she wouldn’t feel neglected. Sherlock was standing by the mantelpiece, a small half-smile on his face as the white lights John had bought flashed in a random pattern.

 

*************

 

Sherlock stood by the mantelpiece, triumphant. At first he had been worried that his idea wouldn’t work, but all was good. John came into the room, Rosie in his arms.

“Looks nice, Sherlock. Is it a rhythm or just some random thing?” He had no idea. Sherlock was a little disappointed that John didn’t catch on, but it had been years since he had actually used morse code.

“It’s from…,” What was a piece John would never have heard of? “It’s from one of the many compositions I’ve made.” John clearly didn’t suspect a thing.

“Oh cool. Well, I thought we could decorate the tree, if that’s ok with you.” He set Rosie down on her black and yellow striped blanket, and pulled a box labeled “Tree decorations” out of seemingly nowhere.

“Ok.” John opened the box and Sherlock took out some silver tinsel. He wrapped it around the tree, with John’s help and the decorating began. They took out bobble after bobble until the only thing left was the star. So typical of John to have a  _ star _ . The doctor must have caught Sherlock glaring at the topper, because he rushed to explain.

“I don’t know if you remember, but a while ago we used to have a deerstalker, but Mary wanted a star.” Not even the slightest bit of stress appeared on John’s features at the mention of his wife. Good. He did kind of remember there being a hat, but it was all fuzzy after he had tried to delete that month.

“We should get rid of the star next year then. As far as I know, neither of us are religious, so the star just looks stupid.” John just nodded. He wanted to keep it. Oh well. They both stood there, eyes on the ground. John broke the silence.

“I’m not tall enough to put it on the tree.” 

“And?” He knew why, he just really wanted John to say it.

John sighed. “And so I need you to do it.” He held out the horrid thing. Sherlock took it and placed it on top of their strong-scented tree, to please John of course. And please John it did, for he then placed a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock jumped slightly, not expecting the contact. John either didn’t notice or just decided not to mention it.

“It looks really nice. Very festive. Good job.” Sherlock hardly heard the words, because John’s strong, warm hand distracted him.

“What? Oh yes, very nice. Good job.” He felt a hot blush spread to the tips of his ears, and knew he had to go or things could get awkward. “I’m suddenly tired, goodnight.” Without waiting for an answer from John, the detective dashed down the hall to his bedroom, and closed the door slightly faster than usual. 

 

*************

 

John stood in the living room, wondering if he did anything wrong. Instead of dwelling on it, he shrugged at Rosie and got ready to put her to bed. It was strange that Sherlock had gone to bed so early, well it was strange he had gone to bed at all really, but it was only nine o’clock. John decided that Rosie should get some sleep, after all she wasn’t even a year old yet. So, John picked her up and carried her up the stairs to his room where her crib sat. He would probably either have to move out or he and Sherlock would need to move somewhere else so that they could fit her. The thought of moving out of 221B made him slightly uncomfortable so he didn’t dwell on it right now.

Once his daughter was sleeping peacefully, John went back downstairs and simply sat in his chair, watching the lights that Sherlock had set up. He wasn’t sure why, but the pattern seemed a little familiar. So, he sat there trying to remember when he’d seen it before.

 

*************

 

Sherlock couldn’t sleep. Knowing that John was out in the sitting room, most likely looking at the lights made him nervous. What if he figured it out? And then there was that weird plant on the kitchen doorway. Maybe it was some weird christmas tradition. He had to know what it was so he pulled out his laptop and started his research.

After about half an hour of reading bits of information about the plant that was called “mistletoe”, Sherlock found an important piece of information. Apparently, the tradition was to… kiss under it? Not believing what he saw, Sherlock read the paragraph about it twice more before confirming that it was, indeed, there. Did John know the connotation that mistletoe had? Of course he did, but did that mean he wanted Sherlock to kiss him? Maybe he was going to have another horrendous christmas party and wanted something fun. Maybe it was a joke.

Sherlock sat in the darkness, trying to make up his mind and decided which scenario was most likely when a little voice from his mind palace said, “You’ll never know if you don’t try.” and so, that’s what he resolved to do. It took a fair amount of time to build up his courage to go out into the living room and confront his flatmate, but he eventually did it. 

Without bothering to check the time, Sherlock emerged from his room, hoping to find John sitting in his chair, or even more preferably, standing under the mistletoe. He was disappointed though, because the doctor was nowhere to be seen. Sherlock glanced at the clock, it was eleven thirty, of course John would have gone to be by now. Sighing, he went back to his room, to wait for morning.

 

*************

 

John finally figured it out. After staring at the pattern for nearly an hour, he thought of morse code and then it wasn’t long to figure out the message after that. How could he have been so stupid? Just to be sure, he tapped it out along with the lights a few times.  ..  .-.. --- …- .  -.-- --- ..-

He felt confident and even got up to confront his friend, but then a wave of doubt washed over him. What if Sherlock didn’t even know morse code. What if John was actually just imagining it? John stewed in his doubts for who knows how long, when Rosie started to cry over the baby monitor he kept on him. Checking the time, he found it was eleven o’clock, so he should probably get to sleep soon anyways.

After changing his daughter’s diaper, John pulled on the boxers he usually slept in and an old cotton shirt. He got into bed, but had a hard time falling asleep. If Sherlock had purposefully done it, did he really feel that way? If he had known about the mistletoe and felt the way his message said, why hadn’t he done anything? Did he even know what mistletoe was? Probably not. He came to the conclusion that Sherlock wasn’t going to make a move, and resolved to do it in the morning. With one last glance at the time, which was eleven thirty, he drifted off to sleep, imagining what could happen in the morning.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this isn't very good, I was a little rushed, but I finished it! Merry Christmas everybody!
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to em0rion for looking over this.

John’s alarm woke him up at seven o’clock, which in turn, woke his baby. Trying to keep her quiet as to not wake Sherlock, he changed her diaper and went downstairs to get her a bottle. The main part of their flat was empty, so John assumed Sherlock was still sleeping. He heated up the milk in a bottle and hurried back up to his room to feed his daughter. Not surprisingly, she fell back asleep in his arms, so he took a moment to appreciate her. She was so small in his arms, and she still had that baby smell that John loved. He settled her down gently, and decided to make himself some tea and toast.

When he got back downstairs he wasn’t expecting to see Sherlock leaning against the counter, a mug of tea in his hands, and one prepared the way John liked it right next to him.

“Good morning, John.” Oh god, he was wearing his gray pyjamas and blue silk robe. John couldn’t help looking up and down his flatmate a few times.

“Hey. Did Rosie wake you up?” Sherlock nodded and sipped his tea. “Oh, sorry about that. She fell back asleep after I fed her so you can go back to sleep if you want.” Sherlock’s eyes widened minutely and he shook his head.

“No, it’s fine.” John put two pieces of bread in the toaster and took his tea as Sherlock downed his.

“Ok, well thanks for the tea and you’re eating the toast I’m making.” Sherlock didn’t object, he simply rinsed his mug and strolled into the sitting room, flopping down onto his chair. John, slightly shocked that there hadn’t been a tiny war over whether Sherlock was going to eat toast, almost burnt said toast.

 

*************

 

After eating a piece of toast, Sherlock got up and grabbed his violin. Playing super quietly, he did a scale and a quick excerpt from a Tchaikovsky piece. John was leaning against the doorway, watching his flatmate perform to no one but him.

“Lovely.” Sherlock nodded and looked over at John.

“Thanks. That was Tchaikovsky.” John just looked confused.

“Bless you?” John chuckled to himself. “It was very nice, but I was wondering if you could play the piece that you made. The one you set the lights to.” Sherlock panicked slightly. There wasn’t actually a piece! He hid his reaction though, and launched into a random patterns using the chords from Canon and Gigue. John didn’t seem to recognize it, and things were going well but then Sherlock felt his heart throb for the man standing under the mistletoe. A surge of bravery flooded him and he decided to play what he felt for once. The result was a complex melody that told the story of a man who was in love with another man, but who was unsure about how said man felt in return. It told the story of triumph, and melancholy. It also took John’s breath away.

John made to clap, but remembered his sleeping child so settled for raising his glass at Sherlock.

“That was so amazing, you don’t even know.” John’s eyes were sparkling and he just looked so irresistable in his cotton briefs and worn shirt. His hair was soft and his skin was glowing. 

Sherlock flicked his eyes up and saw the mistletoe, John’s eyes followed, and he knew he had to act fast.

John opened his mouth, but before he could get anything out, Sherlock was crowding the doctor against the door frame, and pressed his soft lips against dry ones. John leaned in a little and brought his hand up to cup Sherlock’s jaw. Sherlock pressed in a little closer against John, and John opened his mouth, inviting Sherlock’s tongue in. Sherlock took the invitation willingly, and he licked into his flatmate’s mouth. After exploring each other’s mouths for a little while longer, they broke apart, gasping. Eyes the depth of the ocean met verdigris eyes. Sherlock leaned in for another kiss, but John ducked out of the way and nudged Sherlock off of him slightly. The absolute devastation that he saw in his flatmates eyes made John want to hold the lanky man until it disappeared, but he resisted. There was something he needed to say before they took anything further.

“Listen, Sherlock. It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you more, because god, I really do. I think we should talk a little bit first.”

Sherlock nodded, and John led him to the kitchen table, still surprisingly clear of experiments. They sat down in their respective chairs. John started tapping his fingers on the table, but otherwise, stayed silent. After about five minutes of this, Sherlock started to get slightly annoyed.

“What did you want to talk about?” John smiled slightly, and kept tapping his fingers. Sherlock opened his mouth to say more, maybe even yell at John because the man was so frustrating.

“No, listen.” The doctor looked pointedly down at his hand, that was now tapping more furiously. Sherlock realized in that moment, John knew about the lights. John knew about everything. He listened to John’s response, afraid of what it could be.

**..  .-.. --- …- .  -.-- --- ..- - --- ---**

_ I love you too _

Sherlock wanted to cry, and he wanted to get up and dance around. John loved him! John actually loved him.

“Oh, you figured it out then?” John smiled at him and got up from his place.

“Of course I did, you sod.” He said it with affection, and Sherlock knew that John really meant he loved him. John walked over to the man sitting across from him, and pulled him out of the chair by the hands. He took Sherlock to the kitchen doorway, and it was his turn to push the detective against the wall. He leaned in slowly and then kissed the man he loved most in the world. He kissed him to make up for several years of not having kissed him. Sherlock leaned into the kiss and opened his mouth. Before John could absolutely ravish the man in front of him, Rosie cried from upstairs. Both men went, hand in hand, to help her out of bed.

  
  



End file.
